YANK
by Badfaith Obviously
Summary: Sometimes Finas likes to piss Casimiro off for no apparent reason...other then the fact that it's obviously tons of fun.


He never had been as considerate as Casimiro, despite being worlds more well mannered. For instance, he never bothered to preface his actions with a warning label the way Cas did.

When he stopped he stopped right in the middle, he stopped cold, he stopped abruptly.

_"Finas"_

That was his first warning, and subsequently the one he always ignored. His fingers fell away from the hottest place they ever touched and then followed his body as he pulled away.

Finas's maroon eyes did that slow sidelong pan, not quite bothering to make contact with the two toned gaze of his companion, but rolling slightly as he picked himself up and bluntly turned away. He leaned on his palms, burly shoulders stiffening to display how very uninterested he was in the angry way Casimiro was craning his slender neck, the winding line of his torso looming over him, his fangs bared in frustration, demanding attention when he wouldn't give it.

_Give it_, that look said, seething into the slope of his bare back, burning accusatory slits.

But Finas wasn't fooled, beneath it he could smell his desperation.  
><em><br>Won't._ He might have said stubbornly, but probably with better articulation. It was unnecessary, he shot the thought at the other man like a dart, and he almost _felt_him hiss as if in pain at it's contact with his psyche.

The ruddy brown hairs on the nape of his neck bristled a little because he could feel Casimiro's weight shifting behind him but he didn't so much as move, treating the situation like an encounter with a wild animal, knowing the best thing was to stop- stand your ground, make yourself look imposing.

_Play dead_, his mind whispered, probably in Casimiro's voice. When his mind tried to make him laugh it was always in Casimiro's voice. Some infection, some form of psychosis that had spread quickly and was now incurable.

When Casimiro finally started moving, he tensed too soon. The other man twisted like a just like a striped weasel in a fluid arc around the bed, for the sole purpose of coming face to face with him again. He didn't want to bite this time, he just wanted to growl a little more.

Finas blinked. Well of course he'd allow for a little more growling. Why not?

"Finas" he said again, this time softer, and Casimiro only spoke that way when he wanted to make sure Finas heard, not the general population, not people across the room..._Finas_

But the pale vampire wasn't really listening. The look that cut into the dark frown stamped with his beard was nothing less than thin- shrewish even, the really pissy look that immortalized a librarian peering over a book at someone who was speaking too loud in the library- not a half naked man who was crouched stubbornly on the opposite side of a bed for the sole person of upsetting a really obnoxious- really horny- friend.

The Italian was a lot more naked than he was at this point; was coiled behind him like a snake, waiting to strike. He may as well have been shaking a rattle- blasted man kept talking, as if that would help, as if that would change his mind.

"Don't do this with me right now" He said, setting back on his knees and glaring at him "You've been keeping me on edge all night. It's time to stop teasing now".

"Excuse yourself- I'll decide when I do whatever I'm doing, thank you."

It was always then that he'd feel a flush of real anger, at how arrogant the Italian could be sometimes, at how presumptuous. Finas replied "That includes whatever ill advised activity I may or may not be performing with you." His voice was as cold as it could possibly be, freezing, it didn't even hint at heat.

"Do not presume to order me around, Cas".

"_Presume_"? He repeated in enraged disbelief. "Why the fuck would you start touching me and then randomly stop-not just that but everything"! The other man hissed venomously. "_Madon_, for a grown vampire you're such a fucking brat".

_Oh now he'll start sulking_, Finas thought and right on the money Casimiro added in a state of deep sulk.

"You always do this shit".

Finas's face didn't change, he didn't smile often. The situation didn't call for it anyway because maybe Cas could feel the tug in his voice like the tug in his lips that didn't spread his fangs to reveal the neat ones underneath that thin frown.

"Perhaps I got bored with what I was doing, did you ever consider that"? He said slowly with a click of his tongue for added effect- it really did do wonders for the moment. It was like a typewriter, clinking and moving to the next line in the sentence.

Cas stared at him hollowly for a moment, and Finas had to do his best to keep a straight face. It was one of those surreal moments, since usually a "straight face" was not a difficulty for him at all but his default setting.

Casimiro knew him better then that though.

He got no small amount of pleasure out of these exchanges, nor did he ever get tired of the vast array of ways an Italian man with sexual ambiguity could find to express offense. Casimiro was usually lazy, cat like in his confidence, but once the clothes actually came off at the slightest challenge to his masculinity he became a bird, he fluffed up. Finas could almost see his hair do it. The Englishman would have wagered Cas would have hopped from one foot to another like an angry crow, had he not been on his knees and crouching over a tangled knot of rumpled checker-patterned blankets.

He wrung them in his hands.

"You got bored, did you"? He repeated in a snarl, beginning to drag himself forward.

"It's astounding how you manage to be surprised about the exact same thing over and over again." Finas sighed. "Also boring".

Finas waited, feeling the glare of Casimiro's eyes, both red and white. It was like an open flame, it was close to it at least, must have been. Though he didn't really know, he hadn't felt really warm in so long.

He sunbathed in it, and then he felt those fingers snatch into the mane of his brown hair.

This was the worst part, the waiting. After so many years, how could a small moment seem so long? After so many years it was always, this the tension in the muscles of Casimiro's lanky arms, the fact that he knew he couldn't turn to meet eyes with him, that if he did Casimiro might lose control and accidentally hack him to pieces.

He'd grow back...probably, but neither of them liked it when that happened. It wasn't sexy, it wasn't fun.

And though he hadn't breathed in so many years, there was always enough time for his broad torso to rise and fall once. Rise and fall- ebb and flow. There _still_wasn't enough of this in his life, it'd come and go and then he'd be left buzzing, unfulfilled, wishing they could do this forever and never get tired, never need...

_"Bitch"._

Casimiro's arm pulled back with an utter lack of regard and took Finas's skull with him, snapped his neck back at a cruel angle that would have broken the will of any screaming human, but only made him grimace, shudder, beg without words, then he was pushing Finas's nose face first into the wall of pillows because Finas didn't need to breathe and Casimiro was too angry to either look at him or let go of his hair.

No matter what Casimiro did he could not make either of them warm, but he made sure to keep Finas's boredom firmly at bay for the rest of the night, and that was really all the man could ask for.

* * *

><p>Written for my buddy Syn because he made the mistake of telling me he thought Finas enjoyed hair pulling. 3<p> 


End file.
